


Red, Black, Green

by kuonji



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: First Time, Jealousy, M/M, Plot What Plot, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-17
Updated: 2011-10-17
Packaged: 2017-10-24 17:07:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/265860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuonji/pseuds/kuonji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Calloused fingers were digging under his shirt and before he had even figured out what was happening, Hutch felt hot, knowing hands on his chest.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red, Black, Green

**Author's Note:**

> This story was awarded an [Ollie Award](http://community.livejournal.com/sh911award_com) in 2010, category "Hot Flash Award (Best hot writing/art)".
> 
> This story was nominated for two [Ollie Awards](http://community.livejournal.com/sh911award_com) in 2010, category "Needs A Cigarette Award (Best “mmm” story)" and "Challenge Award (Best story submitted to an SH911 challenge)".
> 
> Alternative Links:  
> <http://starskyhutch911.livejournal.com/173333.html>

Starsky followed him up the stairs. Hutch wouldn't normally have minded, or even really taken notice -- except that Starsky had been strange all evening. Quiet. Brooding, almost. The look in his eyes was foreboding in a way Hutch had rarely ever seen.

"Twelve bucks okay?" Hutch said, just to fill up the silence as he unlocked his door. Starsky had picked a slightly more upscale place for dinner and Hutch hadn't had enough cash. Starsky had picked up the bill.

Starsky didn't reply, just followed him in.

Hutch went for his cash drawer, but before he'd gone two steps, a hand on his jacket yanked him backward. "Hey!" He was swung around and slammed against his front door face-first. "Starsky!" He just barely caught himself from breaking his nose.

Calloused fingers were digging under his shirt and before he had even figured out what was happening, Hutch felt hot, knowing hands on his chest. Two fingers pinched a nipple and twisted.

"Ah! St- Star--?" He tried to push away from the door, but Starsky's chest was hard against his back, and he was covered by the weight and scent of his partner. Starsky's other hand burrowed downwards and took firm hold of his cock. "God!" He tried to buck, but even that movement wasn't allowed.

Lips descended on his neck, and he moaned, uncontrollable. He felt his knees give out entirely. Starsky's thigh against his ass was the only thing holding him up. He tilted his head away, begging without words for more. This was everything he'd wanted for over a year.

But... But something...

"W-Wait, what's going on?" Buttons unsnapped and zippers came open. His jacket fell to the floor with a soft thump, followed by his gun. "Starsky, wha--?" He trembled in his partner's grasp, completely wrecked.

Suddenly, he was turned roughly around, and his shoulders slammed back against the door. He stared, dazed, as Starsky backed off of him.

"Look at you," Starsky sneered. "I barely touched you, and you're ready to blow."

The words took a long time to register. Hutch heaved a series of breaths and tried to clear his head. "Starsk...?"

"If you were a girl, you'd have wet leaking down your legs," Starsky said with disgust hanging off of every word.

Hutch gathered his pants up, confusion and abrupt shame burning his face red. He was nearly naked, and Starsky hadn't so much as taken off his holster.

"What's the matter, Hutch? None of your guys talk back to you like this?"

Hutch finally found his voice. "Get out," he said. "I don't know what's going on with you, but you had better get out right now."

"No way. I bought you dinner. I get the whole night."

"What the _hell_?"

Starsky was suddenly in his face again, and before Hutch could decide how to react, a hand had snaked out and ghosted over his crotch. Hutch gasped, startled.

He came back to himself the next instant and, snatching the hand away, used it for leverage as he knifed a knee up. Starsky blocked it with his thigh. The meaty collision jarred Hutch backwards, and Starsky took the opportunity to press in even closer.

"You like to play rough?" he sneered. He reached between them with the other hand and stroked him, hard and perfect.

Hutch bit his lip to keep from giving his pleasure voice. "G- Get away from me," he said, not sounding convincing even to himself. He put his hands on Starsky's chest to shove him away, but Starsky's lips returned to his neck, and he couldn't keep from moaning again. "Stop," he pleaded, shaken and ashamed, his body and mind at cross purposes.

Starsky let him go, finally. He wiped his mouth like he'd tasted something nasty. "My partner's a goddamn slut, and I never knew."

The punch landed before he even realized he'd thrown it. No time at all to pull it, and Starsky didn't block. He staggered back.

Traitorous tears pricked at Hutch's eyes -- fury, helplessness. Sorrow at a dream gone horribly bad. He shrugged his shirt down and straightened up his clothes. "Just get out," he said again, cut deep inside and bleeding.

Starsky felt his tender jaw and moved it gingerly back and forth. His eyes were still sparking.

"Screw you, Hutch. You're the one getting hot for any guy who puts his hands on you!"

That was too much. "Not any guy, you idiot. Just _you_."

Humiliation complete, he opened the door pointedly. Somehow, he pulled together enough pride to glare at his partner -- former partner? -- as he waited for him to leave.

So he saw Starsky's face fluctuate from disgust and anger to... what?

"Yer lyin'," Starsky spat.

Thrown by what he thought was a glimpse of hurt on his partner's face, Hutch forgot to sound angry. "What?"

"You're lying to me. Asner and Conway and who knows who else... If you're hot for me, what were you doing with them, huh?"

" _What?_ "

He'd thought he'd been so careful.

Asner and he had had an agreement. Both of them were young and hot-blooded, with plenty of urges. Neither of them wanted to risk their careers. But Asner had gotten himself engaged three months ago. Hutch had never had time for infidelity. He'd never entertain messing around with a married man.

So he'd gone sniffing for a new safety valve. He'd found Conway just two weeks ago.

John Blaine had been a goddamn, fucking waste. One of the best men on the force, dead for no good reason. There were always safer options. There _had_ to be.

Hutch wouldn't deny it. Not to his partner. He slammed the door shut.

"How'd you know?"

"Does it matter?"

"It matters if someone else might find out."

Starsky scowled, but he answered, "They won't. It was an accident."

"Okay. Good." He leveled a look at Starsky. "Unless you're planning on turning me in yourself?"

"Of course not!" Starsky looked, if anything, angrier at the suggestion.

"How about Asner, huh? Conway? You going to hang them out to dry to get back at me?"

"No!"

Hutch thought he could still read his partner. Starsky's temper was legendary, but so was his loyalty. "All right. So now what? You want to slug me? You want to get a new partner who won't ruin your image?" He looked down disdainfully at Starsky's swollen crotch. "You want to fuck the fag?"

Starsky face twisted in badly-leashed rage, and he stalked forward. Hutch stood his ground. He had no intention of giving way. "Why were you with those guys? You just said you wanted me."

He smiled self-deprecatingly. "If I couldn't have you, I might as well get my rocks off with somebody I could." He tried to make it sound flippant but failed.

"You never asked."

Hutch was abruptly furious. "Come off it, Starsk. You were a mess after Blaine. And remember that club we went to for the Stein case? You were jumping out of your skin."

"That's bec--" Starsky cut himself off and jerked his chin up belligerently. "Doesn't change the fact you were screwing around behind my back!"

"Because what?" Hutch wasn't a detective sergeant for nothing.

Starsky's eyes settled back on his, and his face was a broad challenge. "You were lettin' everyone know I was yours."

Shit. Hutch hadn't thought Starsky had seen that. His partner wasn't a detective sergeant for nothing either.

"To them, you were nothing more than fresh meat. I didn't want them getting ideas."

"Yeah? You looked like you meant it, though. I saw you. You were practically swaggering. Think I'm some trinket to hang off your arm?"

Starsky grabbed the arms in question. His grasp tightened over Hutch's wrists until Hutch gasped. There'd be bruises in the morning, he was pretty sure. He swallowed. He didn't try to escape. "No."

"But you enjoyed yourself, didn't you?"

He had. Starsky was sex personified, even when he wasn't doing that nerve-wracking strut of his. Everyone in that club had wanted a piece of him -- and would have, too, if Hutch hadn't made it clear he was taken. Having the men in there looking at Hutch with that scorching envy... it'd been the highlight of his day, even though he'd known it was empty, empty, empty.

He didn't need to say it; it must've been all over his face. Starsky made a sound like a growl. It made Hutch's blood burn.

"I thought you wanted me then. Then you went off with Officer Asshat. Told myself I was reading you wrong. Then last week I saw you with Conway. No way I was reading you wrong there. How many times did he fuck you, blondie?"

Hutch's heart was pounding. Anything he could say now would just set Starsky off more. Hell, maybe that was what Hutch wanted. His brain was leaking away to his cock anyway. He threw caution to the winds.

"Twice that night and again in the morning. He made me come first and used it for lube. Then he fucked me with a dildo until I came again. I rode him as the sun was coming up the next morning. And you know what? We didn't have time to shower, so I still had him in me when I met you at the station."

Starsky roared and yanked Hutch's right arm almost out of its socket as he dragged him around to the alcove. He dumped Hutch on the bed on his stomach, and Hutch barely had time to take a breath before Starsky was on him, bearing down with all his weight. "This what you want? Huh?"

Hutch was so turned on he could barely breathe. But he'd go run naked in the street in January before he'd tell Starsky that. "Do you want to keep yapping or do you want to fuck?" he snarled instead.

Starsky growled in reply. He hitched up, and there was the sound of a zipper pulling down. "I ain't had any since before the club, Hutch. It's gonna hurt ya."

Shock penetrated the fog of lust. The club? "That was over four months ago!" Starsky usually started whining if he went a couple of weeks without.

"Five and a half." Starsky's hands were making short work of Hutch's pants, exposing him. Hutch shuddered when he felt the tip of Starsky's cock against him. A shove pierced the circle of muscle. Hutch grunted.

"Lube," he gasped. "Drawer."

Starsky ignored him and thrust deeper.

"Dammit, Starsky, get off!"

"That's what I'm tryin' to do, schweetheart."

Hutch spiked an elbow into Starsky's ribs, hard. He rolled out as Starsky crumpled back, groaning. Hutch kicked off the restriction of his pants. Then he reached for the drawer himself. He threw the lube at his partner, watching it bounce off of Starsky's vulnerable stomach with an uttered 'oof'. "If you're going to fuck me, do it right."

Starsky scowled but took the tube of KY. He uncapped it and squeezed out a healthy amount. Then he stopped.

Hutch took pity on him. He grabbed Starsky's hand and moved it around to his ass, smearing the lubricant where it'd be needed. He let go of Starsky's hand and started fingering and stretching himself. Starsky watched him with lava-hot hungry eyes, unblinking.

"You've really never done this before," Hutch observed. He closed his eyes and moaned when he found the happy place and stroked himself there.

He moaned again when he felt Starsky's thick fingers take his place. "I know where the parts go," Starsky said, his voice gruff.

"Then do it already. I know you want to. Jesus, five and a half months?" He rolled to his knees and spread his legs. Starsky's cock replaced his two fingers. This time, he got all the way in with one thrust.

"Hutch." Starsky's voice was strangled.

"Move!" Hutch ordered, impatient and going out of his mind.

Starsky moved.

He was thrown to his elbows by the force of Starsky's first thrust. He had to brace himself against the headboard, the sheets bunching beneath his knees. He moaned as he spread himself wider, making room for the ravenous monster behind him. Sparks flew behind his eyelids with every pounding drag of in-out, in-out, until he felt like he would ignite with the delicious friction.

The whole world narrowed down to the smell of sweat and sex and Starsky, the burn of his own breath, the strain of muscles, the throbbing edge of blood and pain and pleasure.

It was rough and dirty and fast, and it was the hardest Hutch had ever taken it. He howled when he came. Starsky roared behind him at almost the same time and slumped a few seconds later, gasping dead weight. Hutch could feel the moistness of Starsky's shuddering breaths along his ear.

Starsky rolled off of him and lay panting at the ceiling.

When he could move again, Hutch got on his elbows, still tingling and half-numb, and stared down at Starsky in incredulity. "You were... saving yourself for me? All that time?"

Starsky's eyes went dangerous again. Instead of answering, he grabbed Hutch's face in a punishingly tight grip. "No more," he rasped. "Nobody else but me. I mean it. That includes women."

Nobody talked that way to Kenneth Hutchinson. Not even his partner. He calmly took Starsky's wrist and pressed his thumb into the vulnerable spot between the tendons, watching Starsky wince before he wrenched it away. He speared Starsky with an answering glare. "You too, or no deal."

Starsky seemed to relax a bit at the challenge. "You got it."

Hutch searched his eyes and relaxed a bit himself at what he saw. "You got it," he repeated.

Hutch looked his fill at Starsky's dark, handsome face before he lowered his head. Starsky jerked away at first. Hutch forced him back with an insistent hand, and he came, though warily. Anger lingered in his dark sapphire eyes.

Hutch kissed Starsky's bruised jaw first, spending time to love the tender swelling thoroughly. He worked his way gently around Starsky's chin and cheek, until he finally took Starsky's mouth. He invited instead of demanded and requested instead of invaded. Hutch could feel the surprise in Starsky's quivering body, pressed under his. One of them moaned quietly.

Their bodies were spent. It was time to satisfy other parts of themselves. Starsky's eyes had gone soft by the time Hutch drew back.

"Nobody else but you," he promised.

Starsky grunted. "Shut up and kiss me s'more."

  
END.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this story, you might try these:  
> [An Answer For Another Day](http://community.livejournal.com/meandthee_wish/11846.html) (Starsky & Hutch), by kuonji  
> [Slavish Fantasies](http://community.livejournal.com/sga_flashfic/474688.html) (Stargate Atlantis), by kuonji  
> [Tension](http://community.livejournal.com/sga_flashfic/330973.html) (Stargate Atlantis), by kuonji  
> [Aftermath](http://starskyhutcharchive.com/starskyhutchslash/classic/Lasha/aftermath.htm) (Starsky & Hutch), by Lasha  
> [Because I Could (Starsky & Hutch), by TJ](http://starskyhutcharchive.com/starskyhutchslash/DLDV1/DLDV117BecauseICould.htm)  
> [Jealous](http://starskyhutcharchive.com/starskyhutchslash/classic/Toshua/jealousb.htm) (Starsky & Hutch), by Toshua


End file.
